“Just then, my lad, the rein had tightened, but we held on.
“‘Pull me up!’ he says, and we pulled hard, and strained the reins a good deal, and at last he come up, looking hot and scared.
“‘I couldn’t touch bottom,’ he says, ‘and the dog began to bark loudly.’
“‘I see,’ says the ganger, ‘the dog slipped there, and can’t get out. We must have a rope; you, Ike, take the reins, and drive down to the village and get a stout cart-rope. Bring two.’
“The landlord of the inn had just come up, and he said he’d got plenty, and he’d go with me, and so he did, and in a quarter of an hour we’d been down and driven back with two good strong new ropes.
“There was no more digging going on, it was no use; but while we’d been gone they’d chopped away the furze, cutting through it with spades, so that the hole, which was a big crack, was all clear.
“‘Now, then,’ says Old Brownsmith’s brother, ‘go down again, my boy. With this stout rope round we can take care of you,’ but the boy shook his head, he’d been too much scared last time.
“‘Who’ll go?’ says the ganger. ‘A sovereign for the man who goes down and fetches them up.’
“The chaps talked together, but no one moved.
“‘It’ll cave in,’ says one of ’em.